


the life and death of sebastian telephone

by Amber



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Dating, Gen, Kissing, Last Day On Earth, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, Temporal Instability, blaseball - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: Jaylen Hotdogfingers hits Sebastian Telephone with a pitch! Sebastian Telephone is now unstable!
Relationships: Connor Haley/Sebastian Telephone, Jessica Telephone & Sebastian Telephone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	the life and death of sebastian telephone

**Author's Note:**

> rest in violence, sebastian telephone.

"They dropped my apostrophe again," the Pony huffs in disgust, leaning its head on Sebastian's shoulder as they watch Marco at bat. He's got Kline on second, and they're both doing better than their position in the lineup really speaks to. 

"You know everyone pronounces me and Jess' name wrong? It's teh-lef-ohnee." Sebastian shrugs. "You get used to it. You think that robot on the Crabs is really called Notarobot? That's just how blaseball is, in any universe you play it."

Kline makes it home, and they both cheer, ready to congratulate him as he comes jogging back. Sebastian had been wary of Kline at first, but now they're as trauma-bonded as he is with the rest of the team.

"Nice job, man," he says, clapping him on the shoulder as they all watch Connor take bat for the second time. If he makes a plate Sebastian will go to bat again, but if he strikes out the inning's over. Some traitor part of Sebastian hopes for the latter. It's just, he's so tired. His arms hurt. It's top of the tenth, they've been playing non-stop for hundreds of hours. He could use a short break while Mina pitches.

But Connor flexes those famous shoulders and hits a home run. The stadium rings with the cheers of fans and Sebastian forces his grin even wider as he prepares to jog back out again, knees high. Takes up the responsibility of the bat, aware of the hum through the stadium.

Everyone expects so much from him. Not just because he's second hitter, not just because he swapped out from his universe to this one — no, it's because of Jess. His twin was trapped in a peanut shell for days and she was still on the idol charts, still who people think of when they hear the Telephone name. What's worse, it's always been like this. She's beloved and chaotic, a being of electricity through the wires. Bill and Ted, the TARDIS, those phone booths have nothing next to his sister's timefuckery. She isn't even on the Steaks anymore and her fans still come to the games to cheer for him, and all it does is make him feel like he's a cheap substitute. Jessica Lite.

The pressure is thick in the air, tight in his muscles. He misses an easy pitch, and then another one, shifting his fingers on the bat as sweat runs down his spine and he wonders if he's going to strike out swinging.

At least it's not raining goddamn blood, he thinks viciously.

Hotdogfingers winds up and suddenly everything is hushed, and Sebastian feels like there's darkness at the edge of his vision, like a cloud passing over the sun even though the sky's been clear all day.

He realizes he's holding his breath.

A high pitch rings in his ears.

Is this...

Is this what his sister hears?

The ball comes straight at him, hard and too fast. It's not just a foul, it's beaned for his face, no chance of bringing the bat around. He's heard about this, everyone'd heard about this, that Hotdogfingers came back wrong somehow and now—

And now she—

It strikes him square between the eyes, and he's out, beep beep beep call could not be connected.

Somewhere states over, ace batter Jessica Telephone, newly emerged from the terrible peanut cocoon, pauses in adjusting her cap and squints into the sky. Tunes out her teammates a moment as a shiver runs through her.

When Sebastian wakes he's got Sam knelt over him, squeezing his flickering hand. The others aren't far off, crowded around. "He's awake," Sam says in their trombone voice and everyone seems relieved. 

The Pony says, "Okay, but most people who get hit like that end up—"

August Skies hushes her and she kicks her feet restlessly into the grass.

"How you doin', Bastian?" Connor asks, warm and sympathetic from the other side, so close that the heat rises up in Sebastian's cheeks. 

"Just a knock," he says shakily.

"You okay to keep playing?"

Sebastian huffs a sound that almost approximates amusement. "Hey, do I got a choice?"

There's an uncomfortable silence as Sam helps him up to his feet. None of them have a choice, they know that. Baseball until death. For all his grousing Sebastian would rather be running the grounds than buried under it.

"Top of nine," the announcer calls, and Mina sighs, cracking her neck and shoulders.

"Hey, stay near me," the Pony says. "Outfield. Catch a break."

"That's all I'll be catching in this state," Sebastian jokes half-heartedly. Someone tosses him a mitt and he pulls it on, and Connor claps him on the shoulder. 

"You'll be okay. It's just a concussion."

"And this?" Sebastian holds up his fritzing hand, glitching to the elbow. None of them want to look at it, just like nobody's been meeting his eyes.

"Nothing to worry about. It goes away after a while, is what I've heard."

"Every ninth game," Marco says, their numbers guy. "Next mark's 72. You've got a whole week before then, you think you can make that?"

Sebastian shrugs. It doesn't feel up to him anymore. One eclipse is all it'll take.

"Hey," he says, stopping Connor as the others start heading off, and drops his voice low. "Hey, get a milkshake with me after this?"

"Sure, man," Connor says, and Sebastian so wants it to be more than pity. Searches his face, a hungriness in his own. He hadn't dared ask anything like this until now, not even when he made second batter, but hell, he might die tomorrow.

"Like a date," he says, eyebrows meaningful.

"Oh," Connor says, so beautifully stupid. He grins. 

"Hurry up y'all, the next innings is starting," calls August, breaking their moment. They jog to their places.

The next innings is almost normal, Sebastian almost feels normal, except for how his blood feels like someone carbonated it and he can't tell if it's the temporal instability or nerves. He keeps looking across the field at Connor, but he's too far out to really get a read. A ball comes their way and the Pony leaps high for it, catching one of the Garages out. The game goes on.

It's not until Connor's coming back from hitting a home run, panting and joyful, that he tags past Sebastian with a clap on the shoulder and a, "Milkshake date." 

Sebastian whiffs the ball and strikes out swinging again but sweet Peanut he can't stop grinning.

"People think you're unhinged," Sam Scandal tells him later as they help each other stretch and cool down; true to their name, Sam's always first in line with the gossip. "Death looming on the horizon and still so goddamn cheerful. Unhinged or stupid."

"I'm not stupid," Sebastian objects. He's not whip-smart like Jess, but he's not slow neither. "Just got a hot date is all."

Sam whistles, looking pleased and leaning in. "Sebastian Telephone! Well done! With who?" Their eyes narrowing, possibilities computing. "Gotta be someone on the Steaks, you weren't this giddy pre-game."

"I asked Connor, he said yes," Sebastian says with a shrug. "I'm probably gonna get incinerated so it's no skin off his nose, right?" A rueful little smile. 

"Here's a tip, sweetheart: self-deprecation ain't that cute." Sam tosses him a fresh water bottle. "Anyway, good for you. Good for both of you. We all deserve something outside this hell sport." Their tone is fond, since everyone are all love blaseball, of course. "I'm hitting the showers."

"Mm. See ya tomorrow." Sebastian thinks he might shower back at his apartment, just changes out of his sweaty gear. Checks his phone — missed calls from Jessica. 

He should talk about this with her, maybe.

But she never talked to him about getting shelled. The idol thing, the birds. She's still above the red line, could be trapped again at the end of the week, and she hasn't said shit. The thing is, Sebastian still isn't sure if that's a product of the universe swap thing where he's not "her" Sebastian, or if fame and her constant team hopping just drifted them apart. Not a lot of free time in Blaseball. Not unless you make it.

Sebastian's skin flickers again, static and squeal. His head throbs. Maybe he's got a migraine coming on, is this what migraines feel like? Maybe the concussion was worse than he thought. He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand and drinks the rest of his water.

He meets Connor at the diner the team like to use to celebrate, where they sometimes wait out the news of blessings or whatever new excitement is coming between seasons. Nothing new for either of them, but it feels kinda new, just the two of them in a little side booth. Connor's wearing a big, cosy looking sweater that make his shoulders look even more amazing than usual, and his hair is falling into his eyes the way he never lets it during a game.

"You look great," he says warmly. Doesn't mention the neon shiver of Sebastian's skin in places, the way he sometimes makes people think they're seeing double, which is mighty polite of him. But Connor's a gentleman like that.

They both order milkshakes — Sebastian lime, Connor chocolate — and fries to split. Chat idly about the games, the team, the stuff that's happening. Even talk about Jessica, but it never feels like Connor just wants to hear about Jessica. He's always seen Sebastian as his own person, even when the twins were both on the Steaks, starting out. That's probably why Sebastian started crushing on him. That and his thick eyelashes, and his smile, and the movement of his big hands on the blaseball bat, and those legendary shoulders.

Those, he gets to experience up close and personal at the end of the date, standing outside his flat and getting the life politely kissed out of him, clutching their wide perfection for balance since his knees have gone all to jello. Is it an eclipse because he is feeling hot hot hot, blood all to boiling.

"Should have asked me out sooner," Connor says, and Sebastian feels a horrible pang, because yeah, maybe he should have. The problem with waiting until it's life or death, until the very last moment is that it really might _be_ the last moment.

He wants to suggest Connor come upstairs and they make up for lost time, but he's never been good at being selfish. If he survives past day 72, then maybe he'll let Connor get properly attached. But until then... well, if he dies thinking of that kiss, it'll be a good death.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know anything about baseball.


End file.
